In the Water

        Coy infidel
Clad in the flesh of eels and slugs
Movements as lazy as the current.
A slight murmur of the bubbling brook
Crawls along its back,
Body arching and convulsing,
Sensation upon sensation
Mounting upon its worship of the flesh.
      It reaches down and finds a malleable heat.
It lingers on it for a while,
Then senses salt in the water of the river.
Lazily it crawls its way up the current,
The floor dropping suddenly as it issues into
The dark waters of the lake.
      It finds legs.
Soft, tender legs, the ones which its fingers would sink into,
And whose warmth could improve with its heat.      
The water offers itself to it,
Those legs dancing to such a sweet music of youthful giggles.
Braking, green water fills its lungs as it
Wraps its legs around those sweet sins.
      The legs shift and buckle  
As the action reaches its climax.
It pulls hard, and brings its treasure down with
It to the depths.
The heat between its legs ends after five agonizing minutes.